


Right Here Waiting

by Trin303



Series: Kinktober 2020 [14]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Femdom, Hurt/Comfort, Porn with Feelings, Porn with a side of Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trin303/pseuds/Trin303
Summary: Kinktober 2020Prompt: FemdomWhen John comes home hurt from a mission, Helen has some choice things to say about it
Relationships: Helen Wick/John Wick
Series: Kinktober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962415
Kudos: 21





	Right Here Waiting

It was pouring as he drove home, muscles aching and more blood staining his clothes than he was comfortable with. John hadn’t exactly had his ass handed to him. He had completed the job and been paid handsomely for it but he hadn’t been expecting such a hassle getting out of the embassy. Someone had tipped off the guards that he was coming and, if he were anyone else, he might not have made it home.

He pulls into the garage and put the car into park. Helen’s SUV was already there meaning there was no way in hell he was going to be able to hide or even patch himself up before she saw him. 

She probably already knew he was home. 

John takes a few seconds, pushing back his hair from his face and straightening his clothing before getting out of the car. 

He’d had plenty worse before but that wasn’t a thought that would give Helen any comfort.

She’d be pissed.

John closes the car door and walks up the steps to the main floor, wincing.

He opens the door and peers out. Helen is nowhere to be seen but he can hear the faint mumble of the television.

“...Still no word on who shot the ambassador but the police will continue their search. We go now, live, to…” 

John walks through the living room. He knows Helen well enough to know that she left the TV on to make a point. That she knew he had not made it out undetected as planned. That she knew it had all gone to shit and he was likely injured. And there was no way in hell she was going to let it slide.

He checks the kitchen but it is empty. 

John goes back out and swears to himself as he is forced to climb another set of stairs. The door to their bedroom is open. He can see her feet at the end of the bed, toes painted a pale pink, as he reaches the landing. He walks into the room and sure enough, she is in bed, face void of expression as she turns the page of her book.

She glances over the top at him.

Her eyes can his body twice, taking in each stain of blood and tear in his clothing.

“Damage?” Her eyes move back to his and John knows far better than to lie to her.

“They were tipped off that I was coming.”

“Didn’t ask for an excuse, John.” She sets the book down on the side table and swings her legs off the bed, standing in front of him. “What is the damage?”

He has a good six inches on her but she can stand so much taller. She reaches out with a hand and takes ahold of his jaw. She turns his face to one side, eyes narrowed as she assesses the damage. He has a cut at his eyebrow and a clearly bruised cheekbone. She turns to the other side where there is less damage but more blood sprayed.

Helen hums to herself, letting the hand fall to his shoulders. She pushes back his jacket and he assists her and sliding it down his arms and to the floor. Helen undoes each button, one by one. Beneath is the kevlar, the sacred armor that is the only reason he has returned to her on so many occasions. 

His white and red shirt falls to join the jacket and she unstraps the kevlar. 

There is a soft thud as it hits the ground and she swallows at the bruising underneath. Several harsh purple marks to his stomach and one just over his heart.

She sucks in a breath but says nothing. Her hand traces around the marks of his stomach and she walks around him, hand trailing his torso. There is only one such bruise on his back. She stands behind him and wraps both arms around his stomach and presses a kiss to the bruise, soft and gentle. John places his hands on top of hers but they move away immediately, trailing down his stomach. She blindly unclasps his belt and draws it loose from the loops, walking back around to face him.

Helen places two fingers into the waistband of his pants and pulls him toward her forcefully. She pops the button of his pants, tugging down the zipper. She lets the pants fall to the ground and John steps out of them, kicking his socks and shoes along with it leaving only his blue boxers on.

There is a scar on his thigh. Not deep. 

“Bullet graze?” She asks, purposefully ignoring the hard appendage pressing against his boxers, as her fingertips trail his thigh.

“Yes.” He grits out.

Again, she hums, grasping and tugging his boxers off, staring at his eyes as they fall to the floor.

“Shower.” There is no room for argument. Not that he would have anyway. Happy Helen is not someone he argues with let alone pissed Helen.

She steps to the side and he walks past her into the bathroom. He can hear each step she makes behind him but, remembering Eurydice, he does not turn back.

Their bathroom is trisected. Their couples sinks stand in the middle with a door on one side leading towards a toilet and the door on the other leading towards the spacious shower.

He hears a rustle of fabric as he steps into the shower. Biting his lip, he turns the dial and the water spurts on. 

He feels her body press against him from behind. Her face buries into his back as she gently hugs him. For a few minutes, she just holds him under the water. She needs this, as she has told him a hundred times. To just hold him and remember he is safe.

If he was being honest, he needed it too. Just as much.

She takes the antibacterial soap off of one of the shelves and pours a hearty amount onto her hand. 

"Tell me." She says, finally giving him permission to speak while lathering soap down his back and arms.

God, he was so fucking hard at the soft touches of her fingertips.

He swallows and closes his eyes, reveling in every swirl of her hands as they travel down his backside and his thighs and legs. This is what she does and what she needs to do, checking every bruise, scar and wound herself. Seeing the worst of it, making herself sure that he was really okay before the gentleness ended.

“They were expecting me. I wasn't there ten seconds and I was surrounded."

Helen hummed. "And?"

“I killed them. And the people protecting the mark. Then I killed the ambassador and got out."

“Do you think you were sold out?”

John nods, "I'd bet what I just made that I was "

She repeats the patterns on his front, paying no mind to the part of him that has become the most painful.

Helen washes every wound with care, checking each for any stitching or extra care required. She is some kind of angel and John wonders every day why she stayed with him. He had long since given up asking as she always replied the same. 

_ Because you are mine, John Wick. _

She was right.

With a soft kiss to each hip bone, she stands. John resists the urge to groan and make his torment obvious. 

He had withstood countless tortures at the hands of countless people. He had never once broke to the pain but the moment her lips touched his skin, he was a goner.

He reaches for her, to caress her face but she leans back.  **"No, I'm supposed to be making you feel good."**

“Helen…” He whispers.

“Shut up, John.” She rises from her knees, her hands trailing up each thigh and over his hips. She stands on her tip toes and whispers in his ear, “I’m still angry with you.”

He nods once and she spreads the soap over his chest, still paying close attention to his bruising. 

"You're good at what you do. You're the best at what you do. And it makes you goddamn cocky sometimes." At the word, a hand drops between them and skims the length of him. His hips jerk forward uncontrollably but Helen shoves him back with her spare hand, stepping forward and pinning him against the cold tiled wall. 

"We've talked about these risks, John. But perhaps I didn't make myself clear. So, I suppose, we'll have to go over it again."

Helen wraps her hand in his hair and pulls him down to her level, kissing him harshly. He eagerly returns the kiss, reveling at each nip of her teeth before she pulls away.

"Rinse off." She tells him, "dry off, and get on the bed. And don't even think of touching yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

He resists the temptation to smirk at her preferred title. Being cocky was what got him into this mess. Being cooperative would get him off.

"Yes, Mrs. Wick."

She leaves, grabbing a towel as she goes. His fists clench at his side as he watches her wrap the towel around herself. The door closes behind her with a resounding slam and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He stands under the warm stream and tries to think unsexy thoughts. Winston in pink pajamas or the Director in a bikini. 

Helen in a bikini. A white bikini that tied in the back. Just one little tug and it would fall off and leave her exposed.

Fuck.

He rinsed his body of soap quickly and slammed the water shut. He quickly toweled himself dry, careful not to touch his rock hard dick knowing that would lead him down a quick path straight to hell. 

He shook out his hair and ran the towel over it quickly, leaving it damp but no longer dripping.

He wondered if Helen was dripping. If she was as wet as he was hard from this little power play.

She didn’t always take control. In fact, she usually preferred when he did. Her work was stressful enough that when Helen came home, she just needed someone to hold her and comfort her. John was more than happy to oblige to all her needs.

Days like today were few and far between and he cherished them.

She was glorious in command. In another life, she would have made a hell of a general. But for now, she was just his and that was far more than enough. Far greater than he deserved.

She hadn’t specified how she wanted him. He climbed onto his side of the bed and propped himself up against the pillow and waited. 

Helen was taking her damn time but he knew he deserved it. His hands curled into the comforter and he counted each breath as it was exhaled.

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard her steps on the stairs leading up to their room. The door opened and he bit his lip to fight back another groan.

Helen typically favored pastels and florals in her dress but she was a damn vision in the black satin and lace nightgown she had donned. A rim of lace rested on her thighs, teasing a glimpse of what rested between her long legs. The satin wrapped around her curves delicately, highlighting her waist. The satin stopped just under her glorious breasts as the fabric switched back to bare lace. While the satin left little to the imagination, the lace covering her breasts left nothing. He could see everything from her hard nipples to the dusky coloring of her areolas.

Her hair was still damp and he watched enviously as a trickle of water fell from her shoulder down into her cleavage.

His cock twitched and Helen gave a small smirk, an eyebrow raised in quiet mocking.

**“Like what you see?”**

“Come here.”

Helen hummed, walking to the farside of the bed, the side usually reserved for John.

“Lay down.”

John feels his heart stutter in his chest and eagerly pushes himself down the bed. He lays just short of the headboard and awaits his next instruction. It doesn’t take much to guess what comes next when she pulls out a box from under the bed. 

“Arms on either side, stretched out.”

He closes his eyes and does as instructed. A soft leather cuff wraps around his wrist. Helen tugs it shut and tests it with a quick yank. He is not without room to move but he is severely restricted.

He hears her soft footsteps as she walks to the other side and repeats the actions.

Her hand trails down his torso, nails raking into his hips, then gliding down his thigh.

“Spread your legs, John.”

His legs practically fly apart at the order and he feels Helen grasp his ankle. The leather cuff closes around it. Again, she has given him a few inches of leeway but he cannot fully bend his knee. 

There is silence and then her hand caresses his inner thigh on his last free limb. John jerks as Helen strokes down the length of his leg to his ankle, tying the restraint to the leg of the bed and then to John.

He rolls his hips into the mattress as Helen tests the restraints with a tug. It makes no difference to his cock, heavy as it rests on his stomach. He can feel the pre-cum leaking onto him and he groans through clenched teeth.

“Open your eyes.”

Helen stands at the end of the bed, staring down at him. She is the picture of poise, her gaze cool as it rakes his body. Though she might try to hide how it affects her, he recognizes the flush of her cheeks, the heaving of her breasts, and the sweet scent of honey that fills the air.

“Move.”

He tests the restraints himself, not breaking eye contact from her. She’s made her point. His movement is limited. Realistically, he could probably be out of the restraints in a few minutes but this wasn’t about getting free. This was about proving a point.

Helen is in charge, not because she is stronger. Not because she is capable of beating him in combat. No, Helen is in charge because he had given her that power. Helen was in charge because he let her be but he broke the rules.

“What did you do wrong?” Helen asks. She leans forward and crawls onto the bed between his legs. She props herself over him, not allowing her perfect body to come into contact with his swollen cock. “Hmm?”

John swallows, “I- I fucked up.”

“Grandly.” She agrees, moving her weight to one arm so she can move his hair from his face. “But be specific, John.”

“I took an unnecessary risk.”

“And?”

She lowers her mouth, only her mouth, to his neck and plants several soft kisses along his throat.

“It could have stopped me from coming home.”

“It could have.” Helen agrees and her teeth sink, gently, into the flesh where his neck meets his shoulder. John hisses as his body tenses, beginning to coil inwards but he is trapped by the restraints. “I should smack your ass red.”

“Jesus Chri--”

Her palm flies and John’s head snaps to the side. “I don’t recall giving your permission to speak.”

Fuck.

She grabs his chin and forces him to look back at her. “Such a naughty boy. What are we going to do about that? Hmm?” Helen bends and kisses him harshly, their lips smashing together. It almost hurts but it feels so fucking good. Helen sucks on his lip and drags it between her teeth. “I should gag you. Would you like that? I could use one of your ties. Shove it in your mouth and leave you speechless. Or would you prefer my panties?”

John groans at the thought and his eyes shut tight as he tries to gain control over his pulsing dick. 

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, John?” His eyes open as the bed adjusts to her weight as she lifts her hips. Her lingerie rides up as she pushes down the black lacy panties that come with it. “They’re drenched, you know. Soaked because of how fucking hot you look tied in our bed.” She bends a knee and slips them off before repeating the action with the other side. “You can’t even touch me, and you already have me so. fucking. wet.” 

She wads the panties in her hand as she kisses him again, slowly, this time. She pushes her tongue into his mouth as her free hand reaches around and tangles his hair in her hand. Helen pulls him forward, pressing his lips against hers harder. They would both be bruised in the morning.

And then she pulls away, yanking his hair so that his head falls back down to the bed, bouncing twice.

“See? You can be a good boy when you’re mouth is otherwise preoccupied.”

She tossed the panties to the side and John looked up at her in confusion before his lips curled into an almost smile as he waited for confirmation of her intents. It didn’t take long. Helen pulled herself forward, straddling his waist and moving her body slowly up his. Her soaked core skimmed along his cock and John nearly choked on desperation. She moved farther so that her knees rested on either side of his head, her feet back and helping to pin his arms to the bed as she straddled his face. 

“So desperate to talk, John?” She grinds her pussy against his mouth and John opens wide, thrusting his tongue out against her. “Make me come.” Helen jerks his he glides through her folds, “Make me come, and maybe I’ll let you speak.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. John pushes up as far as his arms will allow, grinding his face against her core. True to her word, she is soaked. He laps it up the best he can but even as he does, he feels it drip down his beard.

She braces a hand behind her on his chest and leans back slightly, enough to alleviate some of the tension fathering in her own body. Her other hand grasps at his hair on top of his head and pulls his mouth hard against her pussy. She can feel his tongue eagerly pressing into her folds, searching for her warm core. She leans back slightly, allowing his tongue access inside her and he eagerly swirls his tongue around.

“Fuck!” Helen swears, yanking his face up and harder into her cunt. 

She presses herself down against his face, smothering his mouth and nose with her center. John rubs his face against her in a circular motion and Helen groans again. “Fuck yes...” She mutters and thrusts against his face.

John swallows as her juices flows from her and directly into his mouth. She tastes like honey and smells like fucking ambriosia. He can barely breathe as she fucks his face with her sweet cunt but he doesn’t give a damn if he dies from asphyxiation so long as its with her pussy grinding into him. 

Is this supposed to be a punishment?

She eases up a little, bouncing gently on his face.

John gasps for breath and eagerly dives back into the sweet, hot cunt. She bounces then grinds against him and its all he can do not to release his own load.

Every moan she lets loose shakes him to his core. 

Helen wraps a hand around the back of his neck, still holding his hair with her free hand, and pulls him back to her.

“Such a sweet fucking mouth when you’re not being smart with it.” She tells him and he groans.

She gasps as the groan shakes her clit. 

John nips at her inner lips with his teeth and she jolts against him. “Fuck!” 

He does so again and Helen pushes down on his face, hard. His beard is rough against the smooth, slippery passages of her folds. 

Helen lets go of his head and moves back slightly to get a better look at John-- his dark eyes heavy and lustful. His mouth is covered in her juices and he makes a conscious decision to lick his lips as he maintains steady eye contact.

“Fucking bitch.” She says and she leans back, grinding against his chin. His beard is prickly but it feels so fucking good. John angles his head and slips his tongue back inside her. She shrieks a moan and feels John grin triumphantly.

She thrusts hard against his mouth. “Say you’re sorry.”

His mouth moves and there is a vibration against her core but she cannot for certain make out his words. 

“Say it!” she tells him again, but still leaves him no room to let such words out.

Again, she feels his mouth form the words. It is louder this time. She feels it in the vibration and the muffled sounds coming from his fucking perfect mouth.

It is repeated.

Barely audible, but she feels it as his mouth moves against her cunt.

_ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. _

He says between licks and suckles. Her clit slips between his lips and he sucks softly and Helen almost collapses back on him. But she maintains her composure, grabbing either side of his face and holding him steadily as she uses him to grind against.

She feels the ache within her build. 

And then it releases. She throws her head back and the gasp that escapes her almost makes him cum on the spot, despite the fact its been minutes upon minutes since she touched him where he aches.

Helen pants as John lazily keeps drinking her down, his lips pressing kisses to every inch he could reach.

She leans her hands down on either side of his head and crawls back down his body. Helen kisses him. She can taste herself on his tongue. Her teeth catch his lip and stretch it out before letting him go.

“ **Tell me what you want.** ”

“You. I need to be inside you.” John manages to push out between each heavy breath.

“Oh?”

Her tongue traces his lips and then down his neck as Helen scootches down his body. Her hands scrape down his chest as she falls further down the bed, stopping only when she lands completely between his legs.

Helen takes him in hand, running the length of him. She leans forward, her thumb passing over his slit. John jerks against his restraints and she smiles.

Her hand runs back down his length and she lowers her head to his. Her tongue traces the underside of his cock. She reaches the head and places a soft kiss.

John thrusts his hips and she immediately pushes them back down into the mattress, a hand at each bone.

She presses kisses along him and John groans, his head falling back into the mattress. 

“Hel, please…”

“Please what, baby?” She cups his balls and holds her open mouth against the bases of his cock, sliding up and down with a soft suck.

“Need to fuck you.”

“Need?” She asks, turning her head and nipping harshly against his inner thigh. John yelps and tries to thrust against her yet again. “I think you’ve shown today that you don’t know what you need, John.”

She goes back to his swollen cock, continuing to soak his length in her spit as she idly massages his balls. Her mouth turns as it reaches his tip and she sucks his head into her mouth and releases him with a small pop. A strand of precum stretches from his dick to her mouth before breaking apart and slapping to her chin.

Another moan escapes him at the sight.

“But I’ll give you what you need, John.”

“Quit teasing me.”

That makes her smile. Oh, does Helen smile at his order. “I’ll quit teasing you when I’ve decided you’ve had enough. Besides,” her tongue twirls around his head and she does not look away from him. John moans, his head falling back yet again. “ **If you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?”**

“Minx.”

“Mhmm. What else?” She sucks him back between her lips and John gasps.

“Ah!” He pants as Helen takes him inch by inch into her mouth. “F’cking cocktease.”

She teases him with her teeth. He yelps and Helen brings him back into her mouth. His tip hits the back of her throat and Helen moans around him. She pumps him up and down with her hand as she takes him into her mouth far too slowly.

“Oh, I can be a cock tease.” Her breath cool against his slick cock. He feels himself leaking more and Helen immediately reaches out her tongue to take it. She’s so fucking hot, watching him intently as she plays with his cock, savoring every long suck down his length.

“Helen…” He groans, “Baby, please.”

She sucks just a little bit harder as she pulls off his cock. “Please what?”

“I need to be inside you.”

Again, she runs her tongue up his length, “You’re inside my mouth.” And she takes him back in, as far as she can in this position between his legs. John thrusts to meet her and Helen relaxes her throat, taking him even further.

“Baby…” He groans. “Sweetheart, please. Need to fuck you.”

“Baby,” she teases back harshly, pumping him in her hand, “I don’t think you get it. I’m fucking you tonight. Fucking you hard into this mattress and, maybe, if you’re a good boy, I’ll untie you before I go to sleep.”

“I will get even, Hel.” He warns.

“Is that a threat?” Helen releases his cock and climbs up his body, resting inches over him. “Because it doesn’t sound to me like you’re being a good boy, John.”

John grits his teeth and Helen smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Her tongue skims over his wet beard. “I can still taste myself. I wonder if you’ll still be able to taste me in the morning.”

She reaches down between them and grasps his cock.

“I’m going to use you again, John. And if you cum before I tell you to, I will smack your ass so hard that, tomorrow, you’ll have to lay in bed, all day, on your stomach.”

He can’t help but groan, between her words and the feeling of his cock in her warm hand.

Helen hums, “But then, you’d like that, wouldn’t you John? You’d like to have your dick grinding into this soft bed while I ride your ass.” She shakes her head, “Can’t even punish you without you getting off. Oh well.”

Helen coats his length in her wetness before aligning him at her core. Carefully, slowly, she sinks down onto his cock, rolling her hips to take all of him in.

Her eyes grow hooded at the contact and his wife lets out a long sign as she wiggles her hips.

“I’ll give you this, John. You feel so damn good inside me.”

His nostrils flare and Helen smiles widely.

He was such a good boy, listening to her. Trying not to cum even though he was aching for release. He had made her cum so well but she meant what she said. She was not done using him.

If John wasn’t going to do everything possible to protect his body while at work, then he lost it’s privileges. 

It was hers now and she was going to take him again and again until she got tired. Maybe she would fall asleep with his hard cock still inside her.

She squeezes him and John bites his lip.

Her hands run up his torso, roughly caressing his stomach and chest, dipping low so that her breasts hang enticingly before him.

John’s eyes darkened and she pushed herself back up to a sitting position. 

“Sweet boy.” She tells him. “If you do as I tell you and not cum while I ride you, I’ll let you do whatever you want to my tits. You can lick them, bite them,” she runs her hands along her breasts, squeezing them harshly before rolling her nipples between her finger, “I’ll even let you fuck them.”

He is so tense. She can feel his body, hard as a fucking rock, beneath her. Trying so hard. 

But he was going to break.

Helen grinds down against him and watches as John’s muscles tense, his nails clenching into his fists. His hips jolt against hers and she makes a noise of disappointment.

“Keep still, John. I’m using  _ you _ .”

The sounds he makes are unreal as he tries so hard not to release inside of her. 

Helen rolls her hip back and lets out a small gasp as his length brushes against her g-spot. She rocks in place, against him.

Poor man. He is trying and failing. She feels him tense, she knows how he feels before he erupts. The way his stomach grows taut and his dick pulses. She can hear it in the way his breath stutters.

_ Well,  _ she thinks,  _ if he is to break the rules anyway. _

Helen reaches down and back and cups his balls.

“Fucki!” John shouts and he spills inside of her.

Helen leans forward, still moving her hips, still fucking him as hard as she can, and puts a hand around his throat.

“I thought I told you not to cum.”

“I’m sorry…” He breathes and she smacks his cheek with her non-dominant hand.

And John, bless his heart, whimpers pathetically.

“You will be.” She says, tightening her grip around his neck. 

She quickens her pace, grinding her clit into his crotch, while John’s mouth flutters, searching for air.

Helen tenses, arching her back, and moaning as she cums around him. She rolls her hips, riding him through all the aftershocks.

“Mmmm.” She hums, releasing his throat.

John inhales deeply as Helen slips off his cock and crawls up his chest.

“Take a breath, John.”

And she plants her pussy back in his face as she reaches to undo the bindings. She takes her time, unlatching each hand slowly, rolling her soaking core back into his mouth. He can probably taste himself, she thinks, as she lifts long enough for John to gasp for breath, and then she descends. 

His beard scratches delightfully against her soft skin. 

She hopes that she will be able to feel it tomorrow. 

Helen finishes unlatching his hands and considers staying in place, riding his face again. Letting his cum drip out of her and into his mouth. It’s tempting but not as tempting as what she has planned.

She starts to climb off his face but his hands, now freed, quickly snap up and grab her thighs, holding her in place. 

Shaking her head, Helen places her hand on his forehead and pushes his head down into the mattress.

His mouth is still moving, she notes, and it takes him a second to stop. His tongue swipes his lips as Helen slips out of his grasp.

“Naught boy, you must not want to sit for a week.”

She slips off the bed and undoes the restraints at his ankles.

"I want you off the bed, and on your knees."

And her good boy complies. 

She’s not sure how she wants him, yet. Bent over the bed, lying over her legs. Face down on the floor.

The options are endless.

She walks around him, considering.

Part of her just wants to keep him here, on his knees. To drive him truly wild because she knows, after tonight, he will get even. She needs to make every moment count. And while she’s beyond tempted to stand in front of him and make him eat her out again, he would enjoy that far too much.

There’s an ottoman by the window. It’s leather and his sweaty skin will stick to it deliciously and she decides it’s perfect.

She winds her hand in his thick hair and pulls him forward. John shuffles to the edge of the ottoman and she pulls him up and pushes him onto it. His torso is pressed into the leather and she takes a moment to admire the view. 

You really could bounce a quarter off that ass.

She knew. Because she had.

Quarters, a gold Continental coin, a belt, and a paddle she had gotten at her bachelorette party. While John favored the belt on her ass, he favored the paddle on his own.

And Helen was nothing if not generous. 

She should be torturing him.

She should be sucking on his cock, teasing him with the idea of coming, but never letting him. She should ride him, press him between her breasts, make him edge until he can’t even think, and then take it all away.

To remind him how easily it can all be taken away.

A mistake in the field could cost him his life. The life he has built with her.

But she is generous. Too generous, she thinks, at times.

And yes, she wants nothing more than to torture him until he begs and cries for her to release him. But she won’t. He’s been through enough.

In a world that has been so unbelievably cruel to John Wick, she is his one kindness.

But kindness has its limits and Helen slaps his ass with her hand. It stings her palm but she doesn’t care. She really doesn’t.

She swallows a lump in her throat that she hadn’t even felt forming. Suddenly, it was just there. Taunting her. Reminding her of how close she had come to losing this.

She strikes again and again, quickly losing count in her rashness.

She could have lost this. Her hits become less hard and more erratic and she feels her own walls starting to close in around her, taunting her with the mental image of her worst fear.

An empty house.

And an apologetic phone call from Winston.

Every time he is late, that fills her mind until she hears the car in the driveway.

She has memorized his engine. The sound of his specific tires on gravel.

It was more beautiful than the song that had played when they first danced together.

She brings her warm hand to her face, touching her cheek and feeling a stray tear. She didn’t realize she was crying but her cheeks are wet.

John pushes up from his place bent over the ottoman and she can’t even make a sound of protest. All at once, John pulls her into his arms and they sink together to the floor. His arms wrap around her, squeezing her. Hugging her. Holding her.

A small sob escapes and John pets her hair, whispering to her that it will be okay. That he’s so sorry. That he loves her so much.

She never wanted to be reduced to this. To a fucking cliche of a woman crying over her husband’s demanding job. She never wanted to be anything but supportive but the pressure of all that just hits her anew and a sob escapes.

“Oh, baby.” John tightens his arms around her, “It’s okay. We’re both here, we’re both safe.”

Helen nods, but says nothing.

She can’t speak. Not without risking another sob or descent into emotional chaos.

So they sit, naked together, in silence. Wrapped in each other’s arms as the sky lightens and the promise of tomorrow dawns around them.

John kisses her head and promises, “I’m going to find a way out.”


End file.
